


I'm Not Excited, But Should I Be?

by Enjolannister



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, ill keep these tags updated anyway -if i can-, mentions of depression, possibly actually depicting anxiety and depression in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:59:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjolannister/pseuds/Enjolannister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>((Title is lyrics from the Vampire Weekend song Unbelievers from their album Modern Vampires of the City))</p><p>Grantaire just got accepted to the prestigious Saint-Just Academy, where he will begin his high school career in Paris. Grantaire packs his bags and prepares to live outside of his home for the first time as a boarder at Saint-Just.</p><p>((IM SO BAD AT SUMMARIES ITS MUCH BETTER THAN THIS I SWEAR))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow ok so this isn't my first overall fanfic, and not even my first Les Mis fanfic so yeah. But it is my first Modern AU for Les Mis so yeah! I'm still pretty new to this site and to writing because of motivation so I'll irregularly update this. I might upload like a million chapters in one day and maybe like half a chapter for a week. It depends on how motivated I am for writing -which I assure you will constantly fluctuate-  
> And I give you, my fanfic. Enjoy! xxxxxxxxxxx  
> -Enjolannister

Grantaire’s dad carefully parked the car in the designated parking spot, the parking lot was huge and it was full for the first day of high school, they were lucky to find a parking spot. Grantaire has been accepted into the Saint-Just Academy. A high school that was founded three years ago in Paris for the elite and for the “born leaders who shall shape the future of our society and our planet” according to the school mission his mother made him read.

Grantaire wasn’t really an “elite,” at least he wouldn’t call himself that. He was just fortunate that his middle school academic records were considered good enough for him to come here. His cousin was a junior here and she really encouraged him to come. He didn’t have friends in his old school anyway so why bother staying, at least he can do something better for his future, and maybe, just maybe, he can find some friends.

He left the car and followed his parents to the auditorium building, where freshman orientation was being held. He was well-dressed, and it made him feel okay to be in public. Usually Grantaire would spend hours in front of the mirror trying shirts on and throwing them in a corner, then going to that corner and picking out some other shirts. Today he went with a green and black-striped polo and a pair of jeans and his black converse sneakers. His hair was a huge black curly mess that he didn’t bother to do anything to because he trusted it to go into its “natural state,” and it did.  
Grantaire generally felt okay. Naturally he was a bit anxious because it’s his first day in a completely different place. He wasn’t from Paris. He was from a nearby city called Giverny “best known for having Monet’s home and garden a few blocks from here!” the tour guide would say every day as Grantaire went to school. He memorised the tour guide’s script by the time he had to leave. He’s not leaving, really. His parents and sister are still going to live in Giverny, but he’ll only see them on holidays like Christmas and Spring Break. 

While he was following his parents to where everyone was gathered-in front of the auditorium building-he looked around, they followed a paved road from the parking lot that went directly to a U-shaped building in front of them, they turned left and went up a smaller road that went to the auditorium building. There, a really friendly woman welcomed them; she had curly black hair that fell down to her shoulders, about average height. She was rather short, Grantaire was slightly taller than her, he kept a plain expression until she offered her hand out to shake his. He shook her hand and gave her a smile that might’ve been faker than he intended it to be. 

“Bonjour! I’m Rhea. I teach a minor engineering course here, and I’m assigned to give new students their welcome packets. You’re Grantaire?” Grantaire nodded in response.  
“Yes.”  
“Okay, here’s your packet.” Grantaire hadn’t noticed the pile of brown bags on the table beside her. She took his packet out of the pile and gave it to him. On the top right corner there was a small white sticker that had his name, last then initial of the first, (Grantaire, R.), class, (9th), dorm, (Valois), and advisor, (Monsieur Mabeuf).

“In this packet you’ll find the three-day orientation schedule, your school schedule, dorm room key…” Grantaire lost interest in what she was saying and just nodded. He realised what irritated him about Mme. Rhea, she was too optimistic, oftentimes optimism irritated him because it was simply irritating to just talk in a high pitch and sound excited and Grantaire wasn’t one for optimism, especially not on the first day of high school. He opened the packet and sure enough, there was a key in there with a white label that had his dorm and his room number. He noticed his father had gone, “He went to get your suitcase.” His mother informed him. He dug deeper into his packet and found a map of the campus, found his location and briefly looked over it, “as of this point, I suggest you find your advisor, he’ll continue the tour for you.” Mme. Rhea suggested. Their dad came back with a suitcase and Grantaire’s backpack, which Grantaire took off him and carried.

They found M. Mabeuf in a shaded area on the side of the auditorium. He was an old man, balding. What little hair he had left was extremely white. He wore thin glasses and carried a book. He was smiling and it seemed that this smile has been plastered on his face for far too long, he had a gentle voice when he spoke, it soothed Grantaire. He felt comfortable around M. Mabeuf. “Bonjour. I’m monsieur Mabeuf, and I teach literature. I am also your advisor for your freshman year. Advisors basically, well, advise you on what you should do, academically and personally, on anything really.” Grantaire didn’t feel like this yielded any benefits for him but smiled and nodded anyway. As soon as Mabeuf was done talking another kid came and stood beside Grantaire. He was handsome, Grantaire had to admit. Long black hair that looked crazy yet at the same time looked really nice. He wore a simple dark red shirt and black shorts and red and white reebok sports shoes. He had a huge smile on his face and he was extremely excited for some reason. Grantaire really liked this kid. Grantaire wanted to know him better.

“Hi!” he said to M. Mabeuf, a few moments later his mother came running after him, as fast as she could run in heels. Why was she wearing heels anyway? They both ignored Grantaire and his parents and Mabeuf turned his attention to the boy and his mother.  
“You must be…” Mabeuf looked over a list in his hand, “Courfeyrac?” The boy nodded enthusiastically. Grantaire reassessed the boy. Grantaire needed this sort of enthusiasm in his life.  
“Bonjour, Courfeyrac, I’m your advisor…” Mabeuf said the same thing to Courfeyrac that he did to Grantaire. He then saw it fit to introduce us. “This is Grantaire, he’s another advisee of mine, like you.” Courfeyrac looked at Grantaire and smiled then offered his hand.  
“Nice to meet you, I’m Courfeyrac!” Grantaire shook his hand and smiled.  
“I’m Grantaire.” Grantaire started thinking of things to talk about, to keep the conversation going while his parents argued over where his dorm was and while Courfeyrac’s mom talked to M. Mabeuf. “Which dorm are you in?” Was the only thing Grantaire came up with.  
“Valois, it’s the freshman dorm.” Courfeyrac said, he took a similar-looking key out of his packet and showed it to Grantaire. Grantaire compared both keys and the labels. They both had the same label and the same details inside each label, both had “rm. G35 E” on them. Then it struck Grantaire.  
“We’re sharing a room.” He said plainly. Courfeyrac snatched both keys and studied the labels.  
“Oh my god! Perfect, we’ll be friends, and I’ll introduce you to two other guys from my old school who came here with me.” Grantaire smiled, I guess I’m becoming friends with Courfeyrac, whether I like it or not.  
“Grantaire, come on, your mother found your dorm.” Grantaire turned to his dad and nodded; then he turned back to Courfeyrac.  
“Well, I guess I’ll beat you to the dorm room and get the better bed because I’m immature and I believe the bed I take will be better than yours.” Grantaire gave a short wave and followed his father.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GIVE YOU BAHOREL AND FEUILLY  
> And whiteboy!Courf

Grantaire wasn’t particularly close to his father. He was much closer to his mother and spent much more time with her, he found it much easier to talk to her than to his father, even though neither of them did anything to make him feel uncomfortable around them. And he wouldn’t consider himself particularly comfortable around his mother either, but it’s relatively easier to carry a conversation with her since they share habits and taste in shows and music-among other things-. Also, very recently it came to Grantaire’s attention that he inherited his depression from his mother, so there’s that to share as well. And when Grantaire realised that his mom was depressed her actions started making much more sense; when they were much younger she spent most of her time asleep or in her room. Grantaire’s dad travelled often and it kept him, his mom, and his sister alone at home. He would often fight with his sister and they’d barge into their mom’s room shouting at each other. Grantaire felt incredibly guilty for the longest while-he still does-after he became aware of how annoying and difficult he was being as a pre-teen child who fought with his sister over everything.

Grantaire’s sister was two years younger than him and his exact opposite. Simple as that, and these differences caused them to clash often and it never ended well, thus they weren’t very close, though Grantaire will learn to miss her in his time here, but he knew that within three days of his return they’ll end up fighting again.  
It was tragic, he has to admit, but it’s done, and it’s shaped their relationship and there’s nothing he can do about it. He doesn’t feel comfortable talking to his sister at all about anything, it was nearly impossible for him to talk around her, let alone talk to her.  
Grantaire passed by the U-shaped building on his way to the dorm, he learned later that it was the administration building and it was the farthest building on campus and he would barely come here at all in his freshman and sophomore years. He followed the road opposite of the auditorium and the noise coming from the constant babbling of the parents and the higher-pitched voice of the students and the cheerful teachers died down until it was almost completely quiet, with the exception of the few parents and their kids who are trying to find their dorms as well and the sound of his suitcase on the paved road in front of him. He took out his phone and checked the time, 11:25AM, he searched through the student packet and found his orientation schedule and tried to see what he was supposed to do next: 

12:00PM, dorm meetings – dorm breezeways (STUDENTS ONLY)

12:00PM, meeting the headmaster – auditorium (PARENTS ONLY)

So he’ll have time to unpack and maybe talk to Courfeyrac for a bit.   
They turned right and went down the road for a while until they found a flight of stairs to their left, and beyond the flight of stairs was a huge building shaped like an L, and they were going into the neck of the L, in the middle was a breezeway that split the neck of the L into two halves.

“If you mother’s right, this should be your dorm.” His father said, there was a table in the centre of the breezeway with a student sitting behind it, fast asleep on the table. The sound of the bag on the pavement woke him up; he blinked for a bit and smiled, an obviously fake I-do-not-want-to-be-here smile.   
“Welcome! What’s your name?”  
“Grantaire.”   
“I’m Dominique. Since you have your student packet I’m assuming you have your key as well?”  
“Yes.” Grantaire took the key out of his pocket and gave it to the kid. He stared at the label for a while.  
“G35 E, meaning. You’re on the ground floor of the east wing. Over there.” Dominique pointed to the left wing. Grantaire’s dad beat him to the dorm and they searched for room 35 and found it. The room was spacious and had so many things yet it was so empty. Across from the door was a window that was wide open; it let wind into the room. Underneath the window were two bedside tables; beside each bedside table was a bed-for him and for Courfeyrac-. The beds were propped up against the wall in the corner. Underneath each bed was a desk and right beside the door on both sides was a wardrobe. He heard some noises from the outside and peeked his head out of his room while his dad helped him unpack. He saw a tanned boy with short black hair, he wasn’t wearing a shirt and he was well built. He was wearing blue gym shorts and grey flip flops. He had another boy in a headlock, the other boy had average-length hair that was a really dark shade of brown and it was split from the centre. He seemed to be physically fit but he definitely wasn’t going to win this match with the tanned boy, as much as he tried to struggle to get out of that headlock.  
“Say it!” The tanned boy commanded, an amused expression on his face, a pained one on the other boy’s face.

“I won’t!” The other boy squeaked, which made the tanned boy strengethen his headlock, “there’s an adult here I won’t say it!”  
The tanned boy looked up and saw Grantaie’s head peeking out of his room, Grantaire quickly jumped back into his room, he wasn’t sure if the tanned boy was bullying the other kid or if it was simply horseplay, it didn’t seem like they were being serious but Grantaire wasn’t sure, he heard some whispering from the hallway where the two boys were.  
“He’s alone in his room!”   
“I saw his dad come in with him I swear!”  
“Liar, let’s go find out.” He heard the anticipated footsteps and started unpacking his clothes and putting them in his wardrobe while his dad worked on putting the pillow in its pillowcase. They both turned when the tanned boy knocked on the open door. Grantaire saw the smug grin form on the brown-haired boy’s face, the tanned boy blushed, but it was a barely visible blush.  
“Hi! Sorry about what you, err, saw in the hallway, we were just fooling around, we didn’t see you come in.” He began.  
“No, it’s all-right, this is my dorm as much as it is yours, right?” Grantaire said, forcing a nervous smile on his face.   
“I’m Bahorel.” The tanned boy offered his hand and Grantaire shook it.  
“And I’m Feuilly.” The brunette behind him waved, and Grantaire nodded in response.  
“Nice to meet you two.” Grantaire smiled, “and you both know each other before, I assume?”  
“Clever, how did you know?” Feuilly asked.  
“Horseplay on the first day of school?” Grantaire said with a tone that implied obviousness.   
“Of course.” Bahorel said, “Anyway, both our rooms are down the hall if you need anything, alright?” Grantaire nodded, “Later!” They both left, more muttering was heard from the hallway, a “shut up!” came out a bit too loud and Grantaire smirked to himself.   
He envied their friendship; he had to admit to himself, childhood friends who are so familiar with each other. They probably know everything about each other. Grantaire never had that, he always saw himself as a tag-along. Yes, he had friends, but he never had a close friend. Grantaire didn’t linger on that thought, new school, new everything, he reminded himself.  
“Well, Grantaire, I’ll have to go find your mother, God knows where she’s gone off to now. Do you need anything?” Grantaire shook his head, “Alright, do you know where we should go now?” His father asked.  
“Uhh, at twelve you need to be at the auditorium.” Grantaire said.  
“Alright, goodbye son. Call us if you need anything, we’ll be back tomorrow and the day after, until orientation is over.”  
“Don’t bother yourselves, I know how far Paris is from home, I’ll be okay.” Grantaire gave his dad a reassuring smile. His father smiled back and mussed up his hair before taking the empty suitcase with him. Grantaire emptied the last of his clothes into his wardrobe. He looked into his suitcase and saw his art materials: a few canvases, his palette, washed clean so it wouldn’t ruin and of the other things in the bag; paintbrushes, these really cool tiny boxes that were made to carry paint and they made it easier for him to carry paint. He took out all of his art materials and threw them on his desk. He then organised them, placing the paint, paintbrushes, and palette in his desk drawers. He placed the canvases on the corner of his desk.  
He then emptied out his school bag. He took out his pencil case and his sketchbook and placed then on the centre of his desk. He took out a few multi-subject notebooks. He took a blue pen from his pencil case and began marking his notebooks with their subjects according to his schedule: English Literature, French Literature, English as a Foreign Language, World History, Biology 101, Studio Arts, and Integrated Mathematics.

Grantaire’s like that: he’s organised for the first week or two of school, then something will happen and he’ll lose the motivation and enthusiasm he had and it’ll just be messy paint-splattered papers all over his side of the room. Grantaire prayed to any God that would hear him that Courfeyrac would be a “neat freak” that would force him to clean his side of the room. Grantaire closed his suitcase and placed it on top of his wardrobe, to keep it out of his way and to keep some space in his room. Inside his school bag he stuffed his MacBook and its charger. He plugged the charger into the wall and turned on his laptop.

At that moment Courfeyrac barged into the room, dragging with him a very heavy suitcase that seemed like it was about to explode. He laid it on the floor where Grantaire’s bag was.  
“Wow, you’re fast.” Courfeyrac commented. “Wanna help me unpack?” He asked while he was opening his suitcase.  
“Sure.” Grantaire answered, he started placing Courfeyrac’s clothes in his wardrobe while Courfeyrac made his bed. Grantaire went to the bag for more clothes when he found Courfeyrac’s collection of three pairs of SpongeBob boxer shorts, coloured black, green, and red. Grantaire started laughing hysterically, when Courfeyrac turned he blushed a really bright shade of red that Grantaire was sure was only unique to Courfeyrac.  
“Shut up they’re just boxers I hate you already!” Courfeyrac snapped, trying not to laugh at his own embarrassment. He snatched the boxers from Grantaire’s hand and hid them in their drawer in the wardrobe. When Grantaire finally recovered from his laughing fit he saw the Courfeyrac had gotten his side of the room done.  
“Wow, that was fast.” Grantaire commented.  
“I work fast when I’m embarrassed.” Courfeyrac muttered, “Hey listen, what time do we have to leave?”  
“It’s like 11:45 now, we have fifteen minutes.” Grantaire put his phone back in his pocket.  
“Alright, so tell me about yourself Grantaire.” Courfeyrac and Grantaire sat on Grantaire’s bed.  
“Okay, umm… I watch a lot of TV shows, mostly drama. I draw, as you can see,” he pointed to the canvases and the sketchbook on his desk. “I used to dance when I was younger, then I stopped. I fence, hmm, what else?” He asked himself.  
“Wow, you’re more interesting than you look.” Said Courfeyrac.  
“It’s because I look like I need to kill someone or kill myself which is how I feel most of the time.” Grantaire joked, except it was only half a joke, “What about you?”  
“Me? The only thing you need to know about me is that I love musicals.” Courfeyrac said with pride, “And I have the best taste in music ever, and I’m hilarious.” Courfeyrac unlocked his phone and went to the Music app and gave his phone to Grantaire.  
“Courfeyrac this is all rap and hip-hop and musicals…” Grantaire continued scrolling through his playlist.  
“I know! Isn’t it the best?” Courfeyrac smiled.  
“Sorry, I think it’s best if we don’t discuss music from now on.” Grantaire gave Courfeyrac his phone back.  
“B-but, but everyone likes rap.” He said, in a very childish voice.  
“Sorry. I’m more into alternative, and rock, and indie, and stuff like that.”   
“Ew like what?”  
“How dare you ‘ew’ my music taste? I’ll have you know it’s the best music taste ever and I will definitely turn you from Lil Wayne and whatnot into Florence and The Machine and 30 Seconds to Mars and My Chemical Romance and really cool music.” Courfeyrac fake-yawned.   
“Yeah okay whatever look it’s twelve let’s go.” Courfeyrac stood up to leave and Grantaire followed him, locking the room behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I GIVE YOU ENJOLRAS AND COMBEFERRE  
> and more childish Courf  
> and school schedules.  
> also PS im really sorry i dont know how to italicise stuff here so it's much harder to tell the different between Grantaire's thoughts and actual things but if I turn into first/second person use it's grantaire talking to himself ok

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their school schedules are at the end of this, refer to it if/when you need to

The meeting ended within fifteen minutes, a bit too short, not that Grantaire was complaining. The students decided to, however, hang out in the breezeway and maybe socialise and make friends. Grantaire observed the students he was going to be living with. None of them were particularly interesting, really, so Grantaire decided it’d be best if he stuck to Courfeyrac, and maybe Bahorel and Feuilly.

“There he is!” He heard Courfeyrac and found him approaching with two other guys. A light-brown haired one who wore glasses and looked extremely intellectual, and if he weren’t smiling Grantaire would’ve taken him for a condescending smartass. The other kid, however, Grantaire couldn’t stop looking at him.

He was blonde, but it seemed like his blonde hair was a tad different than other blondes’. He had really deep blue eyes that struck Grantaire hard, he felt extremely uneasy around him, not the sort of uncomfortable he felt around most people, quite the contrary, he felt like he could talk to this boy as if they were childhood friends. 

What he felt was lack of worth, and doubt. Why would this miracle-boy hang out with him? Why would Grantaire trust him? What if he turns out to be a really mean racist bully?  
Then it struck Grantaire: this boy was probably one of those sexy-and-I-know-it boys. He knows he’s attractive and he’s going to be a douchebag about it. Grantaire was tired of dealing with these people, let alone looking at them. This assumption made Grantaire extremely sad. Why am I feeling sad about not being friends with a douche? Yet now he felt like there was something else inside him that hold him this boy isn’t like the other ones. Trust Courfeyrac. Trust your instincts.

How can I trust my instincts if they’re contradictory?!

“Grantaire!” Courfeyrac snapped his fingers in Grantaire’s face to wake Grantaire up from his daydream, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.” Courfeyrac added. “Anyway, this is Combeferre.” He pointed to the boy with the glasses.  
“Pleasure to meet you, Grantaire.” Combeferre offered a hand, which Grantaire gladly took. Combeferre let out a very relaxing aura. Around this trio Grantaire felt really easy and relaxed. He hasn’t felt relaxed for a very long while, and he gratefully smiled and thanked Courfeyrac a million times in his head.  
“And this is Enjolras.” Grantaire turned to the wonder-boy that he briefly forgot about and continued studying him. Enjolras looked extremely feminine, not to mention is overgrown blonde hair that just added to his feminine countenance.

“You’re staring again.” He said. And Grantaire shuddered. Never was a voice so wonderful, never have words impacted him this strongly. And they weren’t anything special or powerful, Enjolras just told him that he was staring, yet Grantaire felt like he was hearing Martin Luther King Jr. talk. Grantaire was extremely confused by the impact this, Enjolras, had on him. For a while Grantaire realised he hadn’t been breathing and exhaled. Enjolras narrowed his eyes, seemingly confused by how Grantaire was acting. Grantaire averted his gaze and shut his eyes for a minute.  
Compose yourself, idiot. You’re making a fool of yourself. Look, he’s staring at you like you’re some weirdo freak who doesn’t even know how to breathe!  
Grantaire called these voices his demons. And he certainly did not need them now. He wiped his palms on his pants and turned back to the trio, who were actively talking together, and Grantaire realised how Enjolras was beaming when he was talking to Courfeyrac, he was really into whatever they were talking about. Courfeyrac turned to him, he said something to Combeferre and Enjolras then walked towards Grantaire.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You’re looking at Enjolras like it’s the first time you see a guy.”  
“Me? Uh, nothing, it’s just- never mind.”  
“Well okay, come on, Combeferre and Enjolras are talking, this conversation will turn into something boring like history or politics or philosophy if we don’t make it cool.”  
He followed Courfeyrac back to Combeferre and Enjolras. And they were one second too late, Enjolras was discussing the Syrian conflict with Combeferre.  
“-no but don’t you see what’s happening there Combeferre? This conflict is going to grow into something much bigger. It’s already attracted American media, soon enough the American army will find some petty excuse to invade the country in support of the rebels-“  
“Enjolras, Obama is a Democrat, Democrats don’t wage wars, it’s not their thing.”  
“The elections are still going, if a Republican like Santorum or Romney wins, not only is the U.S. going back to the dark ages, but it’s dragging the Middle East with it.”  
“Uh, you guys, I’d honestly rather be talking about school than this.” Courfeyrac said, dramatically closing his eyes to add more weight to his sentence.  
“Fine, you know what? We’ll talk about school!” Enjolras replied, taking his schedule out of his pocket.  
“Sunday is our first day of school, my first period is Biology with Monsieur Defrac. Anyone else?”  
“Why do you have your schedules?” Courfeyrac asked.  
“Because we were asked to bring out student packets to this meeting.” Combeferre said.  
“Were we?”  
“Courfeyrac I swear to God I will punch a wall, go get your schedule!” Combeferre sounded rather aggressive, he then turned to Grantaire, “sorry about that, Courfeyrac just frustrates me so much sometimes, I’m a really patient man, except when I’m around him.” Grantaire nodded understandingly.  
“I completely understand, I’ve been with him for about half an hour and I can understand a lifetime of Courfeyrac must be terribly frustrating, I’m so sorry.” Grantaire placed a hand on his chest as a gesture of mock-sympathy. Combeferre laughed. Enjolras was too preoccupied with his schedule to pay attention to either of them.  
“First period Biology, second period French Literature, third world history, fourth English, fifth is 20th century history, sixth is English Literature, and in seventh period I have maths. What about you Grantaire?”  
“First period English, second is French Literature, with you I guess, and third is World History, again with you probably. Fourth is English Literature, fifth is biology, sixth is studio art, and seventh is maths, what a way to end the day!” Grantaire sighed, by the time he and Enjolras looked over their schedules Courfeyrac was back.  
“Combeferre, how’s your schedule?” asked Enjolras.  
“I have biology with you, and history with you and Grantaire, I think that’s it. Courfeyrac?”  
“Uhh, I have English with Grantaire, first period, English and French literature with Combeferre, fun! I swear Combeferre if you decide to be the freak who reminds the teacher that we had homework I’ll burn you.” For a second Grantaire was worried Courfeyrac was serious, but then laughed it off with them.  
“What’s your elective, Courf?” asked Enjolras.  
“Computer science!” He answered enthusiastically.  
“Really? Computer science? Really?” Enjolras seemed like he was offended by Courfeyrac’s admittedly dumb decision to take computer science.  
“It’s an easy A! It’s all gonna be basic stuff like how to turn on a computer maybe.”  
“No Courfeyrac, computer science is gonna get really techy at the end.” Grantaire answered, “sorry.”  
“Fine whatever I’ll switch, I’ll take like art with Grantaire.”  
“You can’t it’ll screw up your schedule.”  
“DAMN IT! So I’m stuck with computer science?”  
“Until the end of the term.” Grantaire smiled.  
“Why am I so stupid?!”  
“It just dawned upon Courfeyrac that he’s dumb, quick, Enjolras! That must be a sign of the apocalypse!” said Combeferre dramatically, placing a hand on his forehead, Enjolras laughed.  
Grantaire would’ve laughed as well if he weren’t so mesmerised by Enjolras’s laugh. It was gentle and deep, showing a really humble and humour-accepting side of his personality. Courfeyrac tackled Combeferre to a wall and they both fought until Enjolras had to stop them. Courfeyrac fixed his shirt and Combeferre cleaned his glasses.  
“So, Enjolras, Combeferre, where are your rooms?” Grantaire asked.  
“My room is in the east wing, ground floor. Combeferre is in the west wing.” Enjolras answered.  
“Ferry is leaving me?! How dare you?! I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS AND THEN YOU GO AND BETRAY ME LIKE THIS! I HATE YOU!” Courfeyrac burst into an exaggerated tantrum and started fake-sobbing into Grantaire’s chest, Grantaire softly patting him on the back.  
“Look at what you’ve done, you’ve broken a poor innocent boy, you should be ashamed of yourself.” Said Grantaire, comically staring-down Combeferre. “Come Courfy baby, I’ll give you some snacks, I have chips.”  
“YAY! Ferre never got me chips.” Courfeyrac turned and stuck a tongue out to Enjolras and Combeferre as he and Grantaire walked back into the dorm. When they got to their room Courfeyrac stopped fake-sobbing and looked up at Grantaire.  
“Do you actually have chips?”  
“No.”  
“DAMN IT!” He yelled. “The thing is Combeferre actually has chips ugh IVE RUINED EVERYTHING IM GONNA STARVE TO DEATH IN THIS TEN-BY-TEN RAT-HOLE UGH!” He fell on his bed, all the while Grantaire laughing at him. He went and sat beside Courfeyrac on the bed, softly stroking the back of his head and Courfeyrac made weird noises into his pillow.  
“It’s okay Courfy-baby. Lunch is in two hours, can you handle it till then?”  
“NO IM GONNA FIND COMBEFERRE BYE!” He jumped off his bed and ran out of the room. Grantaire sighed and took his laptop to his bed and opened it. He opened the tabs he usually opens, his YouTube channel, his Facebook page, his Tumblr blog. He tried to find Enjolras on Facebook and succeeded, but refused to send a friend request for fear of seeming creepy. He opened DeviantArt and checked some of his notifications. He checked the time again: 12:30PM. He checked his orientation schedule and apparently they were done for the day, until eight O’clock, which is when they’ll have their after-eight schedule in the dorm explained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras:  
> -Biology  
> -French Literature  
> -World History  
> -English Language  
> -20th Century History  
> -English Literature  
> -Maths
> 
> Grantaire:  
> -English Language  
> -French Literature  
> -World History  
> -English Literature  
> -Biology  
> -Studio Art  
> -Maths
> 
> Combeferre:  
> -Biology  
> -English Literature  
> -World History  
> -Maths  
> -English Language  
> -French Literature  
> -Philosophy
> 
> Courfeyrac:  
> -English Language  
> -English Literature  
> -Biology  
> -Computer Science  
> -Maths  
> -French Literature  
> -World History


End file.
